Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man

Pianist Kevin Chen made a remarkable debut in Vancouver Saturday evening, with a programme that effectively highlights not only his not inconsiderable virtuosity, but his depth and musicality.

 

Bravely, I thought, Chen began his recital with Chopin’s Ballade No. 1 in G minor (Op. 23), and managed to bring freshness to a piece that is played almost too often. I have rarely heard the Meno mosso section (m. 68) played so beautifully. He was careful to build the piece to its shattering climax towards the end, carefully pacing the progression of the drama, and thoughtfully gauging the sound, that even the big chordal section at m. 106 - where far too many pianists tend to go “all out” - does not make the rest of the work feel anti-climactic. When it came to the cataclysmic coda, with the clashing octaves and ending of complete desolation, Chen played it at a tempo and with an intensity that was breathtaking.

 

It is truly impressive that an artist so young can have such a mature grasp of Chopin’s Polonaise-Fantasie (Op. 61). Personally, I find this to be Chopin’s greatest and perhaps most elusive works. By this time of Chopin’s creative evolution, he was no longer interested in those long bel-canto melodies that he was known for as a younger composer. The fragmentary, rhetorical nature of the melodic threads make it a challenge for any pianist to convey. From beginning to end, Kevin Chen has a complete grasp of the logic and structure of the work, and infused it with a palpable sense of cohesiveness and organic unity. More importantly, he grasps the desperation and heartbreak that is so inherent throughout the work.

 

On the other end of the musical spectrum, the composer’s Variations on “Là ci darem la mano”(Op. 2) is the product of a very young composer trying to showcase his compositional and pianistic skills. Chen’s stunning rendition of the work made me wonder if this was how young Chopin may have played it. This was the composition that led to Robert Schumann’s now famous preamble of his review of the piece in the Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung, “Hats off, gentlemen, a genius!” It was a performance that dazzled Saturday’s audience with a truly unbelievable virtuosity. At the same time, it was not fast fingers that caught our ears, but always a feeling that technique is there to serve musical ends.

 

The second half of the recital consisted of the music of Franz Liszt, another composer Chen identifies with, with good reasons, as we would find out, in spades.

 

According to Vladimir Horowitz, Liszt’s Ballade No. 2 in B minor (S. 171) is one of his greatest works for piano. From first note to last, it was obvious that Chen identifies with the Lisztian idiom, as well as rises to the composer’s superhuman pianistic challenges. As in Chopin’s Polonaise-Fantasie, Chen understands and conveys the fragmentary, rhetorical nature of this music, and he gave a performance that underscored the beauty and drama inherent in the music.

 

Schubert’s Erlkönig is the terror for any pianist, so I could just imagine how intimidating Liszt’s transcription would be. Chen did not seem to bat an eye at the technical hurdles inherent in the music, but played it with a rousing virtuosity that was irresistible. I think Sergei Babayan was more vivid in making the characters in the lied come alive, but this will surely come with age for Chen.

 

The young pianist gave a deeply felt, beautifully shaped performance of the Sonetto 104 del Petrarca (S. 161, No. 5), from volume two of the Années de pèlerinage, giving the audience a dose of lyricism before the fireworks of the final piece.

 

And what fireworks they were! During Chen’s performance of the Réminiscences de Don Juan (S. 418), I marvelled not only at the incredible musical and pianistic display, but how the young artist was able to highlight and bring alive so vividly the absolute genius of Liszt’s design, something that happens rarely with this work. And no matter how fast the fingers were moving, and how cleanly the passages were executed, Chen never made us lose sight of the beauty and logic behind the notes.

 

After a well-deserved ovation, Chen granted an encore – the calm after the storm – Liszt’s masterful transcription of Schumann’s Widmung, in a reading that is ardent and filled with longing. The “Ave Maria” at the end of the song was stunningly beautiful.

 

From Chen’s playing and from my brief interaction with him before and after the concert, it struck me that this is not only a hugely talented young man, but a highly sensitive one, as well as a musician who is still developing his already considerable musical maturity. I can only wish for him a management who would not exploit his talents, but cherish this rare gift, and allow him the time and space to continue to grow as a musician.

 

From his performance in Vancouver, it seems that the sky is the limit for Kevin Chen.

 

 

An Evening of Astounding Beauty

Sergei Babayan’s Vancouver recital last evening was a wondrous experience of beauty and rapturous emotions. 

 

At first glance, it appeared to have been a long series of seemingly unrelated pieces. At the end of the evening, though, I felt as if I had savoured a most thoughtfully planned, imaginatively and lovingly prepared meal, with one “dish” complementing another in every way imaginable.

 

It is a testament of a great artist that he could capture the listener’s attention – without demanding it – with a single note, or one chord. Babayan did just that with the first of a series of Liszt transcriptions of lieder by Franz Schubert. 

 

Right at the outset of Der Müller und der Bach, he drew the audience into the Schubertian sound world with the depth of sound and depth of feeling of his playing. In the major section that follows, he evoked an unearthly beauty from the Steinway piano. I was captivated by the richness of his playing of the piano’s lower registers in his performance of Aufenthalt. In the well-known Auf dem Wasser zu singen, he played with the kind of liquid sound, with one note melting into the next, that one so rarely hears except in the greatest artists, a true cantabile. 

 

Babayan wisely planned the programme so that the moods of the different lieder balance one  another. The frightening intensity of Die Stadt was contrasted with the eerie and obsessive evenness of the spinning wheel in Gretchen am Spinnrade. At times, it appears that there were three hands playing the different textures of the music. The sombre atmosphere of the foregoing works was again tempered by the joy of Ständchen “Horch! Horch! Here, Babayan fully exploited the sonorities of the instrument to produce an infinite palette of colours. In the most frightening and desperate Erlkönig I have ever heard, Babayan produced a sonority of a different kind, changing the timbre and colours of his playing to bring out the various characters of this brief but devastating drama. Throughout this first group of pieces, there was the artist palpable awareness of the vocal line of each lied. 

 

The artist continued to treat us to various aspects of the Lisztian sound world, from his ardent playing of Liszt’s transcription of Schumann’s Widmung, to the delicate, even fragile beauty of the Hymne de la nuit, and to the song-like “Romance” in E minor “O pourquoi donc”.

 

Manuel Ponce’s Intermezzo No. 1 provided the perfect sorbet to cleanse our palate before the second group of works by Rachmaninoff. In the Ponce, Babayan highlighted the almost popular music quality of the work, by playing with much flexibility of both sound and rhythm.

 

It is well known that Mr. Babayan has a special affinity with the music of Sergei Rachmaninoff, and his playing of four transcriptions of and by pieces Rachmaninoff amply demonstrated that. 

 

In Volodos’ transcriptions of Where beauty dwells and Melody, Earl Wild’s transcription of Dream, and Rachmaninoff’s transcription of Kreisler’s justly famous Libesleid, Babayan masterfully demonstrated his complete identification with and an understanding of both the Rachmaninoff idiom and sound, highlighting the transcendent beauty of the composer’s music by playing with a richness and an infinite variety of sound colours. In the Libesleid, he played the music with a fantasy-like flexibility, as well as a breathtaking lightness that was quite stunning.

 

The magic continued after the interval, with a range of pieces by many different composers, beginning with four Canción by Federico Mompou, playing these lovely miniatures with a beguiling simplicity and disarming directness that is both refreshing and charming. 

 

Babayan introduced me to work unfamiliar to me - Chinar es by Armenian composer Komitas, transcribed by Villy Sargsyan. He obviously felt strongly with this music, and played it with a meditative, almost hypnotic quality that draws one right inside the music. He followed this with a beautiful performance of Sibelius’ The Spruce, reminding me what an effective composer Sibelius is for the piano.

 

The second half continued with Keith Jarrett’s famous transcription of Arlen’s Over the Rainbow, underscoring the beauty and inventiveness of Jarrett’s harmonic colours, without ever losing sight of the melody. This introspective work was followed by a colourful reading of Jesús Guridi’s La carrasquilla, from his Danzas viejas, and a ravishing performance of Grieg’s Ein Traum. He then gave an exciting and rhythmically impregnable performance of Albeniz’s Malagueña, followed by a return to the music of Komitas, playing his Berceuse with the utmost delicacy and sensitivity. 

 

As if to prevent jolt us from our reverie, Babayan then played Paul Hindemith’s Einletung und Lied, highlighting the more angular and harshness of the composer’s music. 

 

This was followed by a performance of Stephen Reynolds’ Chanson d’automne, with playing of delicacy, even fragility. Poulenc’s Hommage à Edith Piaf followed, with playing of fantastic freedom and an almost improvisatory quality. Babayan then gave us his own transcription of Fauré’s Au bord de l’eau, with again the most beautiful cantabile that successfully evoked this music of sublime drift – the nonchalant flowing of water. He returned to Poulenc, and plunged into Les chemins de l’amour, highlighting the quality of Parisian popular music by playing with charm, freedom, and freshness. Babayan remained in Paris with Alexis Weissenberg’s transcription of Charles Trenet’s En avil à Paris, bringing out all the Gallic charm of this music. The concert concluded with a delightful romp through Maurice Whitney’s transcription of Gershwin’s Oh lady, be good! Here the artist ingeniously highlighted the melodic inventiveness of Gershwin as well as the composer’s unique and unmistakable rhythmic qualities. 

 

Throughout the evening, there was not a single moment that I doubted that we were in the presence in the greatest of artists. Babayan played this panoply of contrasting, and played every single one of them masterfully. Hearing the different works presented, I had the feeling that I was beholding different leaves of the rose window of Paris’ Notre Dame Cathedral, each of the leaves with its unique beauty, making up a whole that is greater than the sum of its parts.

 

 

Sergei Babayan is an artist whose playing transcends the instrument. 

 

Throughout the evening, I often felt that I was not hearing notes, but colours and emotions. It was truly an evening to savour and remember for a long time to come.

 

Bruce Liu's Return to Vancouver

Even with the proliferation of music competition all over the world, the International Chopin Competition in Warsaw remains at the pinnacle in terms of the extremely high level of playing and its track record of being a career launchpad for some of today’s most legendary artists. That said, any artist is only as good as his or her last performance, and any artist would, every time he or she steps on stage, continues to have to prove him or herself. The greater the fame, the more the pressure for an artist to continue to develop and to play “well”.

 

Judging from Bruce Liu’s performance in Vancouver’s Orpheum Theatre yesterday, he has developed into a more mature and insightful artist since his sensational win in Warsaw two years ago, and the performance was, by every standard, very well played indeed. 

 

In Haydn’s Sonata in B minor, Hob XVI:32, Liu successfully highlighted the elegance as well as the mock pathos that is so unique to the composer. His fleet, stunningly accurate fingerwork and rhythmic acuity infused the performance with a breathtaking lightness. In the central Tempo di Menuetto movement, he very successfully contrasted the courtly elegance of the outer sections with the gentle sturm und drang of the minore section. Liu took a daring tempo in the presto third movement, with its canonic opening, giving it the feeling, fun and excitement of a cops and robbers chase, and highlighting the composer’s added layer of humour by setting it in the “serious” key of B minor. 

 

Liu played Chopin’s Sonata in B-flat minor, Op. 35, in his Vancouver debut recitals, and I was very curious to hear if and how his conception has changed in the intervening years. It was a stunning performance of great depth and feeling. I believe Liu feels the music even more than he did in his previous performance, both in Vancouver and in Warsaw during the competition. The sound is now deeper, and the drama and contrast more acute. I think, in time, he could bring out even more the violence and volcanic passion so inherent in the music. One hallmark in his playing – and this was true throughout the recital – is the utter clarity he brought to the playing no matter how thick or complex the texture. One thing that struck me two years ago, was the utter stillness he infused into the funeral march. This feeling of frightening stillness was even more apparent in yesterday’s performance. I was stunned by his sweeping and breathtaking playing of the “weird” (in the very best sense of the word) final movement, evoking so much Anton Rubinstein’s description of the “effect of wind over the graves” – a great achievement indeed for so young an artist.

 

As if to dispel the doom and gloom of the Chopin, Liu finished his first half with Kapustin’s Variations, Op. 41, with its influence of both jazz and popular music and, as Ruth Enns’ excellent programme notes indicate, “exploring styles ranging from swing to blues to bebop.” Liu did not pretend that the music was greater (or lesser) than what it was. Under his hand, it was a performance that was, for lack of a more sophisticated word, simply fun, and it was difficult to tell if the artist or the audience enjoyed the playing more. 

 

The young artist’s playing of the works from Rameau’s Pieces de clavessin showcased the pianist with all his Gallic charm and elegance. Liu made no apologies for playing these works on the piano, and infused the music with a generous range of colours. It may not have been “authentic” or “historically aware”, but it was certainly beguiling and gorgeous playing. In Le poule, Liu so successfully evoked the clattering quality of the harpsichord, as well as the lively pecking character of the work. 

 

It is the hallmark of a great work that every artist would bring something different to it. I am sure the presenters of the concert did not plan for two consecutive recitals to include Prokofiev’s Sonata No. 7 in B-flat Major, Op. 83, arguably the composer’s towering masterpiece. Let me say that I would not want to be without the experience of either Yefim Bronfman or Bruce Liu’s performance. Yesterday, Liu brought to the work a lightness in touch and a panther-like spring, a quickness in the changes of mood, without lessening the impact of the weight of the music. In the first movement, he did not fall into the trap of playing the opening too fast, thereby maintaining the rhythmic integrity of the work. He engaged a great deal of una corda pedal throughout, giving the music a wider range of colours than Bronfman did. Liu’s playing of the third movement was exciting indeed, played with absolutely rhythmic acuity, and he had to his advantage a young man’s energy and enthusiasm for the work not yet “seasoned” by experience. From beginning to its cataclysmic final chords, it was a performance that took one’s breath away, and got the audience to stand and cheer. 

 

And cheered they did, prompting Liu to grant three very different encores – a calm and reverential Bach/Siloti’s Prelude, a spirited Waltz in D-flat Major, Op. 64, No. 1 (the so-called “Minute Waltz”), and a performance of Erik Satie’s Gnossienne No. 1, with the artist’s hallmark beauty of tone and with some truly beautiful turn of phrases.

 

Looking at the hour-long lineup for autographs and photographs with the artist, Bruce Liu’s popularity has not lessened with time. While it is true that success at the Chopin Competition would almost guarantee many first opportunities for any young artist, but as conductor Zubin Mehta said, and I paraphrase, it is easy to get a first invitation, but to be invited back after that first performance is the real test. If Bruce Liu continues to develop as an artist and musician, there is every indication that he would be invited again and again in any of the musical capital of the world. 

A Weekend of Music - The Vancouver Cantata Singers and pianist Federico Colli

What a musically rewarding weekend in Vancouver this has been: the Vancouver Cantata Singers’ performance of what was probably the Canadian premiere of Amy Beach’s Grand Mass in E-flat Major, and a sensational recital by the wonderful pianist Federico Colli!

 

With all the attention given to women composers these last few years, the music of Amy Beach has not received quite as much attention as that of Florence Price. I know of some of Mrs. Beach’s beautiful piano music, and a piano concerto which gets occasional performances. Certainly, her compositions deserve to be heard, and I am very grateful to Paula Kremer for programming this very beautiful and moving setting of the Mass.

 

Not knowing anything about the composition, I was at first quite surprised to learn (from the excellent notes) that it was composed as early as 1886/1887. To my ears, this would explain the relatively conservative harmonic language of the work, with hints of Mendelssohn in the choral writing, and Schumann in the writing for orchestra, especially the strings. Curiously, the orchestral introduction to the Agnus Dei was harmonically extremely advanced, with passages that even almost foreshadows Wagner’s orchestral writing in the later Ring operas. 

 

I found it intriguing that such a grand work would have no brass instruments, but I subsequent learned that for practical consideration, the orchestral parts had been re-written for chamber orchestra, with the organ very effectively taking over what would have been played by the brass section. 

 

Saturday’s performance was outstanding in every respect. Paula Kremer conducted the choral and orchestral forces with authority, and a palpable sense of commitment and love for the music. Members of the Allegra Chamber Orchestra acquitted themselves more than admirably in the demanding orchestral writing. The solo quartet of Benila Ninan, Melanie Adams, Andy Robb and Peter Alexander, drawn from the choir, delivered performances, both individually and as an ensemble, of great musicality. The Vancouver Cantata Singers is certainly one of the city’s finest choral ensemble. Beach certainly gives equal attention to both soloists and choir, and members of the choir delivered a performance that lived up to their usual very high standards. Particularly memorable and moving for me was Andy Robb’s singing of the Graduale, as well as the performance of the “Et incarnatus est de Spiritu Sancto” section of the Credo.

 

At the Vancouver Playhouse Sunday afternoon, Federico Colli gave a truly scintillating performance of a demanding programme – both performance and audience - of works by Ligeti, Couperin, Prokofiev, and Ravel. Even at his Vancouver debut, it was evident that Colli is one of today’s most original thinking musicians. His performance last Sunday confirmed this initial impression. 

 

Ligeti’s Musica Ricercata was a first hearing for me, and without the aid of a score, I cannot really say more than the fact that he gave a pianistically impregnable and musically committed performance. I am grateful to Colli for this first hearing of the score.

 

In the works by Couperin that followed, Colli dispelled any suggestion that such pieces should be the exclusive domain of the harpsichord. His performance was elegance and musicality personified, with every note like a droplet of water projected to the far reaches of the hall. Prokofiev’s Vision fugitives, Op. 22, presents a wide range of colours and emotions, and Colli very effectively highlighted the distinctive characteristic of each piece within the set. His performance of Ravel’s Le Tombeau de Couperin – Ravel’s artistic effort to create something new by returning to the old - was simply sensational, and showed his towering command of the piano, with an infinite palette of colours under his fingers as well as a shimmering sound that emanated from the Steinway. The word that came to mind at the end of the concert was - effervescent.  

 

Perhaps to dispel the mood created by the “serious” programme, Colli played an encore that was pure fun, as well as a pure display of musical showmanship, in the best sense of the word – pianist Fazil Say’s transcription of Mozart’s Rondo alla turca – playing that brought the audience to its feet. It was, as they say, just what we needed. Certainly, Colli is a pianist I would go and hear anytime and anywhere.

 

With summer just around the corner – even though it does not feel like it yet – and the impending conclusion to the current concert season, we can be justly grateful for the many indelible musical experiences we have had this year. I was sad to see that Colli did not have a bigger audience at the Playhouse – this was a performance that deserved to be heard by many. It appears that many arts organizations have more difficulty filling halls since the global pandemic. Perhaps too many people have become too used to enjoying their music at home. I do hope that more and more people would begin to venture out and experience the magic and excitement of live performances – for me, there really is no substitute.

Yefim Bronfman Returns to Vancouver

There is a well-known YouTube video of a very young Yefim Bronfman playing in a masterclass for pianist Gina Bachauer. At the end of Bronfman’s performance, Bachauer was ask what she wanted to say to the young performer, upon which she replied, “I have nothing to say. God Bless you.” This brief video probably shows both what kind of a person Bachauer was, as well as the enormity of Bronfman’s talents. 

 

I first heard Bronfman many years ago when he substituted for an indisposed Gary Graffman. Bronfman came on stage and simply stunned the audience with his performance of Saint-Saens’ Piano Concerto No. 2 in G minor. I immediately bought a ticket for the subsequent performance, and I have never yet missed any performance every time Bronfman visits Vancouver.

 

It has been many years since Bronfman had given a solo recital in Vancouver, and last night, he once again reminds us why he is one of today’s most outstanding musicians and artists. Bronfman has an absolute command of every facet of playing the piano, and there is nothing technically that is beyond him. At the same time, even in the relatively large space of Vancouver’s Orpheum Theatre, he was able to draw the audience in with the intimacy of his playing. Hearing him last night, I was reminded of Arthur Rubinstein, in the absolutely natural way he presents the music, without histrionics, and with simplicity and sincerity.

 

The opening work, Schubert’s Sonata in A minor, D. 784, was a case in point. Bronfman presented the beauty and emotional core of the work, simply and without affectation but with great beauty and depth of feeling. The Andante sang out in the most songful manner, and the Allegro vivace suitably ferocious. 

 

In Schumann’s Faschingsschwank aus Wien, Op. 26, Bronfman brought out the absolute exuberance of the music, as well as its kaleidoscopic gamut of emotions, and carried us along in his very personal journey through the five movements of the work. 

 

Conductor and composer Esa-Pekka Salonen wrote Sisar for Mr. Bronfman, and the pianist gave a performance of absolute conviction, from the capricious, dream-like opening to the more energetic and playful later sections. 

 

Bronfman’s performance of Chopin’s Nocturne in D-flat Major, Op. 27, No. 2, again reminded me of Mr. Rubinstein, playing of great beauty, with sentiment and yet not sentimental, and projecting the bel canto melody right to the last row of the auditorium.

 

I had heard Bronfman perform Prokofiev’s Sonata No. 7 in B-flat Major, Op. 83, years ago in one of his previous visits to Vancouver, and I knew we would be in for a treat. It was much more than Bronfman’s absolute command and technical control of this complex, transcendentally-difficult  score, but it is the way he drew this infinite variety of sound colours from the beautiful Steinway piano. In the second movement, Bronfman’s playing seemed to exude a kind of hypnotic effect with the music. And he really threw caution to the wind with the frenzy of the 3^rd movement, thrilling us with his truly stunning playing of the toccata-like movement. The sound, or rather the pulse of this music, lingered in my mind long after the evening was over.

 

After such a performance, of course there were cheers and bravos from the audience, who were impressively attentive during the course of the evening. Bronfman graciously granted two encores – a rippling and songful performance of Schumann’s deceptively simple Arabeske, Op. 18, and a rip-roaring romp through Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in G minor, Op. 23, No. 5, bringing out the power and sweep of the opening and closing sections, without taking away the melancholy of the middle section. I was completely swept away by the tremendous power and energy he put into and drew from the music.

 

Bronfman’s last appearance in Vancouver was with the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra in a towering performance of Brahms’ towering Piano Concerto No. 2 in B-flat Major. It was a privilege to have heard this towering artist again, and I, for one, am already looking forward to his next visit. 

A Stirring Mahler 3rd in Seattle

It has indeed been a treat this season, to be able to hear performances of not one but two Mahler symphonies – the 5^thearlier this season, and now the monumental 3^rd. No stranger to Seattle audiences, conductor Kahchun Wong came with an impressive list of accomplishments, and indeed proved to be an extremely talented young conductor. And joining the Seattle orchestra in this memorable performance were mezzo-soprano Julie Boulianne, members of the Seattle Symphony Chorale, and the Northwest Boychoir. 

 

Right from the outset, Wong brought out truly outstanding playing from every section of the orchestra, with the horn solo at the outset establishing the mood of grandeur and a real sense of urgency. Wong maintained the forward impetus throughout the gigantic first movement, with the oft-recurring trumpet calls with its almost primeval sound. There was also a palpable sense of weight in the string playing, especially in the prominent bass parts. 

 

Wong shaped the opening Tempo de Menuetto movement with the requisite Viennese lilt, preparing the listener for that beautiful chord played by the violins and harps at measure 28. The L’istesso tempo section was played with that typically Mahlerian combination of humour and pathos. This tone of irony continued on in the third movement, with outstanding playing especially by the wind section. 

 

Julie Boulianne has a beautifully dark quality in her voice so appropriate for the fourth movement. I did, however, feel that there was an emotional detachment and a want of depth of feeling in her singing that evening. I could not help but miss the emotional depth with which Maureen Forrester sang this movement. Wong and the orchestra supported Boulianne’s vocal lines with great sensitivity, and again, I loved the weight and tone, the sense of “substance” in the string playing. 

 

The fifth movement was just wonderfully done all around, with members of the Seattle Symphony Chorale and Northwest Boychoir aptly capturing Mahler child-like vision of heavenly bliss, a theme he explores to even greater effect in the Fourth Symphony. For me, Boulianne’s singing captured the mood of this movement to much greater effect than she did in the fourth movement. 

 

The crowning glory of the entire symphony, indeed, one of the greatest symphonic endings in Mahler (except for the final movement of the Ninth Symphony), has to be the Langsam movement. I have to again comment on the beautiful string tone of the orchestra as well as Wong’s incredible sense of timing and pacing – what a great feat for such a young conductor. There was a feeling of organic unity in the music, and not merely a series of beautiful episodes. At the end of the performance, there was an almost audible sigh from the entire audience, almost as if all of us were holding our breath throughout the past half hour. 

 

This performance is an amazing accomplishment for such a young conductor, not just in terms of holding the orchestra together, but in having an organic view of the entire work, from beginning to end, and of pacing the performance the way he did. I believe, with a piece like Mahler’s 3^rd, a conductor must be able to see the way clearly before him, but at the same time lose himself within the music, to lose and find himself at the same time. With time, as he is able to lose himself more into, and surrender himself more to the emotional core of the music, I believe the results might just be transcendental. 

 

 

A Wonderful Afternoon of Opus One's

There has been a great deal of press covering Yuchan Lim, gold medalist of the 2022 Van Cliburn International Piano Competition, and Mr. Lim had done so much performing since his win that he recently suffered a hand injury and was forced to cancel some performances. Such is the price to pay for today’s successful musicians, when air travel allows one to be in three or four different cities within the same week. The silver medalist of that same competition, Anna Geniushene has, perhaps as a result of the reality of the proliferation of piano competitions today, received far less notice in the music world. And so, it was a less-than-capacity audience that greeted Ms. Geniushene as she walked onto the stage of the Vancouver Playhouse for her debut in the city, which did not stop her for giving a scintillating performance of a generous and varied programme.

 

The young pianist began her recital with Muzio Clementi’s two-movement Sonata in E-flat Major, Op. 1. Ever since Horowitz brought the world’s attention to Clementi, this composer, normally known to piano students as the creator of some charming sonatinas, can now occasionally be heard in piano recitals. Geniushene gave a spacious and rhythmically flexible reading of the first movement, giving much room for the music to breathe, and highlighting the humour within the music. She played the charming second movement with disarming simplicity, giving the feeling of a child romping through a field.

 

Geniushene gave Chopin’s Rondo, Op. 1 all the charm and vitality the music calls for, bringing alive the dance rhythm in the score, and highlighting the gamut of emotions contained in this short work. Her fantastic pianistic abilities seemingly allowed her to take no heed to the work’s incredible technical demands.

 

In Mieczyslaw Weinberg’s Wiegenlied, Op. 1, Geniushene gave the work an incredible delicacy called for in the music, giving us an infinite palette of colours even within a relatively narrow dynamic range. She also brought out the fantasy-like character found in much of the music, and used her magical pedalling to create a mixture of colours. 

 

This element of fantasy carried over to her passionate performance of Schumann’s “Abegg” Variations, Op. 1, from the ardour she brought to the opening notes, to the brilliance and panache she played in some of the variations, she successfully wove together the disparate variations to create a beautiful whole. 

 

The first half of the recital ended with a real rarity, Tchaikovsky’s Two Pieces, Op. 1. From the tumultuous beginning of the first piece, with a lyrical middle section, to the boisterous scherzando-like second piece, she identified completely with this music, giving it a committed and utterly convincing performance.

 

The recital’s second half began with Alban Berg’s lyrical masterpiece, his Sonata, Op. 1. Again, Geniushene believed in the greatness of this work, giving it an idiomatic and impassioned reading, but without sacrificing the clarity in voice leading within the densely woven texture of the work, and infusing the music with the twilight-tinged colours inherent in the score.

 

She ended her concert with a truly magisterial performance of Brahms’ youthful Sonata in C Major, Op. 1. In her brief introduction before her performance, Geniushene spoke about how Brahms was very much thinking about Beethoven gigantic Hammerklavier (Op. 106) sonata. And indeed, the opening chords of the 1^st movement do remind one of the opening of Beethoven’s magnum opus for the piano. Geniushene has a thorough grasp of the Brahmsian idiom, capturing the composer’s youthful ardour, as well as the depth and “bigness” of the sound called for by the music. Her performance of this work reminds me of Robert Schumann’s description of Brahms as a “young eagle”. In the sonata’s second movement, she played the opening with depth of feeling, beautiful voicing of the chords, as well as a real sense of sombreness and solemnity that almost foreshadow the composer’s late piano pieces. The young artist played the 3^rd and 4^th movements with great ardour, a huge range of emotions and colours, and a technical command and assurance on the level of a Michelangelo. In the 3^rd movement, she really brought out the symphonic scope of the music, so akin to the gigantic orchestral scherzi in his symphonies. There was never a sagging in the music tension, and there was an incredible sense of forward motion, all the way to a triumphal ending that left the Steinway limp and the audience exhilarated. 

 

After a justly deserved ovation, Geniushene played Beethoven’s Bagatelle in E-flat Major, Op. 33, No. 1, giving the music all the charm and humour it calls for. 

 

In a recent conversation with a musician friend who enjoys an active concert career, he commented on how differently careers often turn out between the gold medalist of a major competition and the runner up’s. In today’s competitive music world, with competition winners emerging year after year, the lustre of winning even a major prize no longer has the same impact as it once did. It is too soon to tell if Mrs. Geniushene will enjoy a major career - she certainly has the requisite talent and pianism that a career demands. But in today’s highly commercialized music “business” (oh, what a terrible word to be associated with music!), talent rarely equates success. I do wish Mrs. Geniushene well in her musical journey, and hope that she would be appreciated by many in the music world, an appreciation that, judging from yesterday’s performance, she more than deserves. 

 

Postcards from New York - The Metropolitan Opera

Is there a more difficult job than running a major opera house? Minutes before the curtain was supposed to rise for the Metropolitan Opera’s production of Turandot, General Director Peter Gelb walked on stage and informed the audience that the stage machinery for the opera’s complex set had jammed, and that the performance would be “semi-staged”, which meant only a single set would be used throughout the evening. Refunds would be offered to anyone who wanted it. Quite a few in the audience did rise and walked out. My wife and I decided to stay, and were treated to a truly great performance of Puccini’s final masterpiece, musically as well as dramatically.

 

Turandot is an opera of extremes – from music of the utmost brutality that foreshadows Bartok and Stravinsky, to arias and ensembles so beautiful that makes our goosebumps stand erect. It does take an exceptional conductor to hold together all these elements and make the performance convincing. Conductor Oksana Lyniv conducted a fluid performance of the opera, holding together all the disparate elements in the score. I did find that she was more convincing in the more lyrical parts of the score, with the more dramatic, even brutal, elements of the music somewhat underplayed. Nevertheless, the final result was a performance that moved, even without Franco Zeffirelli’s famously over-the-top sets. The great MET orchestra was in fine shape indeed, with great playing in every department of the composer’s complex score, and the chorus was truly a glory of this great house.

 

I am happy to report that great singing is alive and well at the MET. SeoJong Back’s Calaf was dramatically convincing as well as musically vibrant. Amazing, Mr. Back began his musical journey as a baritone and “became”a tenor only later on! He has an ease in tone production that was beautiful as well as unforced – and the famous Nessun Dorma was indeed convincingly delivered, well-paced and with an effortless high B. After the well-deserved bravos, the conductor called for the aria to be encored. I did find his second delivery a little less convincing, because I had the feeling that he was trying a little too hard to top that first performance. Encores in opera, in spite of its long tradition, is something I never understood - one would never imagine, or expect, a repeat of the “To be or not to be” soliloquy in Hamlet.

 

Elena Pankratova’s Turandot was equally impressive, and she indeed rose to Puccini’s incredible vocal demands and sailed above the orchestral textures. Dramatically, she was convincing in her transformation toward the end of the drama. Aleksandra Kurzak nearly stole the show in her portrayal of Liu, with this character’s palpable sense of innocence and vulnerability. The trio of Ping, Pong, Pang – Joo Won Kang, Tony Stevenson and Andrew Stenson –was well-matched as well as well-blended as an ensemble. What was incredible – and I suppose one only hears this in major opera houses – was that the “minor” roles were equally well sung, including a musically and dramatically commanding performance as Timur by Vitalij Kowaljow, as well as Carlo Bosi as a convincing Emperor Altoum. 

 

In the end, this “semi-staged” presentation of Turandot indeed overcame the limitations of the lack of lavish sets, turning out to be a moving musical as well as theatrical experience. 

 

The next evening, we returned for the house’s new production of Verdi’s La Forza del Destino, an opera that is always difficult to stage because of the many and improbabilities and “coincidences” in the story. I was greatly anticipating the performance, as it was conducted by music director and “star” conductor, Canada’s own Yannick Nezet-Seguin.

 

Musically, the performance was of an impressively high level – the orchestra rose to Verdi’s demands under Nezet-Seguin, and the singers all delivered unimpeachable performances. 

 

Brian Jagde was vocally spectacular as Don Alvaro, with a beautiful, emotive voice as clear as a clarion call. He was well-matched, vocally and dramatically, by Igor Golovatenko’s Don Carlo di Vargas, both individually as well as in their many ensemble moments. 

 

I always find it incredible that as an agnostic, Verdi was able to write the most beautiful and reverential religious music, such as Donna Leonora’s prayer for guidance in Act One, her plea to enter religious life and the subsequent apparition of the Virgin Mary in Act Two, the music of the pilgrims in the same act, as well as her forgiveness in Act Four. I was convinced and greatly moved by Elena Stikhina’s performance and reverence with which she delivered these crucial moments in the drama. As in Turandot, the smaller roles were vocally and dramatically equally magnificent. The fortune teller Preziosilla was one of the evening’s highlights, wonderfully acted and sung by Maria Barakova that was truly show-stopping. 

 

Director Mariusz Trelinski updated the opera to a contemporary setting, with the story being set in an unnamed city and country. After the accidental death of the general, we were told, the country was plunged into a devastating war. Here is where the set was transformed into a sort of post-apocalyptic landscape.

 

I think in updating any opera, one has to ask the question of whether such a change would serve the score, enhance the drama, or make it more logical. In this case, I would say that it does not. Although the emotions on display are indeed universal – love, hate, jealousy, etcetera – the code of behaviour is very much of an earlier time. To have the drama set in a modern setting would make this code of behaviour illogical. 

 

I am quite aware that we live in a post-Christian, or even anti-Christian age, but whatever the personal belief of the director, art should not be used to reflect his or her personal bias for or against anything. In Act II, when Leonora was imploring the Father Superior to allow her to enter religious life, the two characters displayed a physical closeness that is out of order and illogical between penitent and religious. Later on, before Guardiano allowed her to remain in the monastery’s hermitage, Guardiano inexplicably slapped her in the face. During Leonora’s initiation rite, when she was passing among the friars to the hermitage, she was surrounded by this group of friars, and the friars were flogging her using some form of a whip. The entire image, the message, of this image, suggests something abnormal, even sinister. No Catholic religious order ever had such an initiation rite.

 

The production made very effective use of both foreground and back projections, and the apparition of the Virgin Mary could have been done very effectively. However, the image of the Virgin Mary projected looks more like some sort of new age deity – with red lipsticks – nothing like any image of the Virgin Mary I had ever seen. Were these the director’s deliberate efforts to disparage the Church? Whatever his motives were, it was downright inappropriate, if not deliberately insulting to the Catholic Church. If Verdi, as an agnostic, could write convincing, even reverential, religious music, could the director not at least show respect to the creator of the work? More importantly, such personal interpretation of the drama does nothing to highlight the genius of the opera, but rather took away the even greater power it could have conveyed. In the case of this production, I think the director’s concept took away the central message of the drama, which in Verdi’s final concept of the opera, is not even how one’s life is bound by the forces of destiny, but the power of forgiveness and redemption, even in the midst of great tragedy. One could argue for a certain concept in the name of artistic licence, but no degree of artistic licence should distort the original intent of the creator.

 

Yannick Nezet-Seguin conducted with great passion, commitment to the score, and a total identification to the Verdi’s idiom. The famous overture was performed with great drama and passion, with great attention to the layering of the instruments, always beautiful brass playing, and gorgeous woodwind playing in the Andantino section, and especially felicitous playing of the clarinet solo in the Allegro brillante section. He is indeed a worthy successor to James Levine, who had done so much to elevate the level of the music-making at the MET. 

 

In spite of my reservation about the staging of the opera, the performance remained one that was impregnable. It was indeed a treat to have the privilege to hear such great singing and playing, including again the great MET chorus, all under the direction of one of today’s major conductors.

 

I am already starting to save for our next outing to the Big Apple.

 

 

 

Postcards from New York - New York Philharmonic

 What a joy it is to hear the New York Philharmonic in the new Wu Tsai Theatre in the David Geffen Hall! I remember hearing the orchestra in the 1980’s, and how dead the acoustics used to be. Now the sound is so much warmer, allowing one to hear the details in the orchestral colours. I am happy that the latest renovations of this problematic hall finally yielded good results.

 

Last night, music director Jaap van Zweden conducted a performance of extremely well-known works, which posed for both conductor and musicians the challenge of bringing new ideas and excitement to these very familiar pieces of music.

 

The concert began with a splendid reading of Mendelssohn’s The Hebrides Overture (Fingal’s Cave), Op. 26. This poetic tone painting received an evocative, colourful performance, with truly outstanding playing from all the players of the Philharmonic. The many subtle shifts in colours and harmonies were beautifully handled by van Zweden and the orchestra. 

 

Conrad Tao joined the musicians of the orchestra in Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 17 in G Major, K. 453. Tao, a much extroverted player, gave us big-boned Mozart, drawing a bright, brilliant sound from the piano. Tao may be pianistically impeccable, but he was a little too aggressive in how he approached the concerto. Perhaps this is his 21^st century view of Mozart, but I must admit that while I can appreciate his pianism, his playing more egoistic. I also listened in vain for a more spiritual dimension in his music-making.

 

Conductor and orchestra were sympathetic partners for Tao. The conductor served as a more classical foil to the soloist’s more aggressive interpretation of the concerto. Van Zweden blended the wind colours of the opening of the second movement truly beautifully, and the orchestra played the jaunty third movement with lovely attention to details, especially in phrasing. I was more impressed with Tao in his playing of his first encore, the pianist’s own transcription of Art Tatum’s “take” on Over the Rainbow. This performance showcased the young artist’s considerable pianistic chops. His playing of The Fairy Garden from Ravel’s Mother Goose Suite, his second encore, was very well played indeed, although I did find pianist Charles Richard Hamelin more idiomatic in his interpretation of the same work in a recital he gave in Vancouver. Again, I found Tao’s playing of the Ravel much too aggressive for the delicate colours of this work. 

 

Is there any piece of music that is part of our collective consciousness than Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5 in C minor, Op. 67? Its all-too-familiar opening motif has been heard in anything from commercial jingles to cell phone ringtones. That said, when the work is performed with commitment by a great orchestra, the power and startling originality of the work can still come through, as they did last evening. 

 

Jaap van Zweden led the orchestra in a reading of the Beethoven that was taut, forward-moving, and architecturally tight. It was such a pleasure to hear the weight and the full tone of the string sounds. I appreciated van Zweden tempo choices for each movement - with emphasis on the con brio of the 1^stmovement, and the con moto of the second – as well as the very logical tempo relationship between movements. In the second movement, the conductor paid great attention to details of the phrasing, especially in the phrase ending of the main theme. The transition of the 3^rd movement to the glorious C Major arrival of the 4^thmovement was beautifully paced and tension-filled.

 

Yes, Beethoven’s 5^th symphony can still “work” when it is a truly a great and committed performance. When one thinks that there is always someone in the audience who might be hearing the performance for the first time, we must appreciate the dedication and commitment of the musicians of the New York Philharmonic for making this iconic piece of music come alive once again. 

 

Last evening’s concert marked the beginning of a series of concerts in the next few months that would conclude van Zweden’s relatively brief tenure with the orchestra. Star conductor Gustavo Dudamel will then take over the music directorship of the orchestra, ending his association with the Los Angeles Philharmonic. So far, Dudamel seems to be able to do no wrong, at least in the eyes of the critics. I could not help but notice that Dudamel will be following the same path as former music director Zubin Mehta. Will the New York critics be just as cruel to Dudamel, as they certainly were to Mehta? I guess time will tell. For now, I would say that the orchestra has been in good hands under van Zweden, and the audience’s cheers and bravos were certainly a tribute to the memorable performance he and the orchestra gave yesterday.

 

 

Artist at Work

What a joy it is to hear the piano being played so lovingly, and so achingly beautifully, as it was last evening with Rafal Blechacz, his fourth recital appearance in Vancouver under the auspices of the Vancouver Chopin Society.

 

I had the privilege of hearing Mr. Blechacz on various occasions, and had always enjoyed his performances. This time, I was utterly and completely moved, indeed overwhelmed, by his artistry and musicality, as well as the palpable spirituality of his interpretations. 

 

The way he played the piano transcended the instrument, and what one hears are sounds of music, heavenly music.

 

With the first simple notes of the Nocturne in F minor, Op. 55, No. 1, the audience was drawn into his very intimate and personal sound world. Indeed, throughout the evening, I felt that we were invited by the artistry to share in the communion of music-making, and that is a great gift indeed. Blechacz had an acute sense of balancing the horizontal and vertical aspects of the music; the music was never driven, but rather floated forward.

 

Chopin’s early Mazurkas, Op. 6, presents some daunting technical and musical challenges for any pianists; needless to say, Blechacz towered above any technical difficulties inherent in the score. In these works, Blechacz conveyed and celebrated the joy of the young composer, almost reveling in the fecundity of his creative genius. 

 

The first half of the recital ended with four large works. In the Polonaise-Fantasie, Op. 61, he so skillfully delineated the complex contrapuntal web so inherent in the composer’s late works, resulting in a truly masterful interpretation of this, arguably Chopin’s greatest work, a work that, because of its seemingly fragmentary nature, can sometimes come out sounding disjointed and meaningless. Not so with Blechacz’s performance, where every note, every chord, every inflection, every pregnant pause (and there were many of them), and every phrase were charged with emotion and meaning. More importantly, he conveyed, more than many pianists I have heard in a long time, the utter tragedy and heartbreak, combined with a feeling of a final defiance, of the drama unfolding.

 

He continued with a spirited but incredibly musical reading of the famous Polonaise in A Major, Op. 40, No. 1, and a suitably dark and brooding performance of the lesser-known Polonaise in C minor, Op. 40, No. 2. The first half ended with a performance of the Polonaise in A-flat Major, Op. 53, that made one wanted to shout, “Viva Poland!” That said, these performances of Chopin’s rousing polonaises were not merely exciting, but tremendously moving and hauntingly beautiful. 

 

The second half of the recital began with a performance of Debussy’s Suite Bergamasque that made me think of the composer’s statement that he wished for a piano without hammers. Blechacz’s playing of these four pieces were simply magical. His timing in the Prelude gave it an almost improvisatory quality, and in the Menuet and Passepied, there was a quickness, delicacy and lightness that simply took my breath away. The justly famous Clair de Lune was played with infinite shades of pianissimos. Words cannot describe the truly mesmerizing beauty of the performance was.

 

In Mozart’s Sonata in A Major, K. 331, Blechacz presented the work with highly expressive playing and, while always maintaining the structural integrity of the work, he was not afraid to take time with certain phrases, or inject slight pauses to emphasize a point. Perhaps some might find his interpretation too “romantic”, but I found it completely valid and convincing. It was also the most “bubbly”, and infectiously joyful, playing of the Rondo all Turca I have heard in a long time.

 

It is difficult to pinpoint the style of Karol Szymanowski’s music. While there is an indebtedness to Chopin, he has very much his own unique voice in his creations. Blachacz gave a truly splendid and totally committed reading of the composer’s Variations in B-flat minor, Op. 3, bringing out both the lyrical aspects of the composer’s writing, but also the late-romantic harmonic colours of the early 20^th century. Blechacz highlighted the characteristic of each variation, but also managed to inject a real sense of cohesion and logic throughout the entire opus.

 

After a well-deserved ovation from the nearly sold-out house, Blechacz graciously granted two encores – Chopin’s pensive Mazurka in A minor, Op. 17, No. 4, and his charming miniature masterpiece, the Prelude in A Major, Op. 28, No. 7, confirming my belief that while there are many great pianists today, there are really far fewer who can really capture the spirit of Chopin. Blechacz is of course one of today’s great pianists, but he is, without a doubt, a musician that gets into the heart and soul of the composer, and we were witnesses to a performance that was truly a testament to his commitment to conveying the absolutely unique genius of Chopin.

 

How privileged we were last evening, to be given a glimpse into the continuing artistic evolution of this most gifted young artist. I certainly look forward to his next visit to Vancouver, where he would no doubt move us once more with his musicality and unique insights into whatever he chooses to play.